


Blending In

by Serpensortia_parapluie



Series: Reaching for homeostasis [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV), Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-03-10 10:07:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13499736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serpensortia_parapluie/pseuds/Serpensortia_parapluie
Summary: Sometimes, Stiles doesn’t quite manage to come across asnormal, even to the supernatural creatures in Beacon Hills. Derek doesn’t manage to seem normal to the good people of Night Vale any better than Stiles does to the good people of Beacon Hills. He tries, but they all agree he seems pretty odd.In which Stiles gets a letter, and goes over the river and through the woods to grandmother’s house, Derek in tow.





	1. In which there is very little plot and a very mild cliff-hanger already spoiled by the summary

**Author's Note:**

> I mentioned on my tumblr I had two more snippets of this series in progress, and I decided to combine them. This story, unlike the others, will contain... a _plot_! Nothing terribly complex, but there'll be one! Let me know if there's any grievous mistakes in this first chapter, I only started it two days ago, and I've only read over it three or so times.  
>  I do not own, nor am I affiliated with the owners or creators of either _Teen Wolf_ or _Welcome to Night Vale_. I do not give my permission for my work to shared on sites like Goodreads. Please leave a comment, constructive criticism would especially be appreciated.  
>  -> **EDIT 2-28-2018:** This is a WIP, and I'm thinking it'll have about five chapters. I will edit this if that changes at any time. Probably gonna be Sterek. Might not progress past pre-slash.

Stiles was completely and utterly _unreal_ sometimes. It was really unnerving, given that Derek himself had grown up knowing he was basically a fairy-tale creature. Somehow, Stiles took that sense of otherworldlyness and turned it up a notch or seven. Half the time, he either talked like he’d visited Lovecraft’s nightmares or like his old town had thought _1984_ was a good starting point but a bit unambitious. Stiles often referenced completely insane or impossible things happening there, and never once did his heart-beat sound like he was lying.

He lived his life utterly convinced about the strangest of things. Apparently, mountains aren’t real. The PTA at his old school is led by a glow cloud. There is a cat and his kittens floating in the men’s room of Stiles’ old town’s city radio station’s men’s bathroom. John Peters, you know, the farmer?- raises a crop of imaginary corn that Stiles has been craving. Derek could have set a metronome to Stiles’ heart-beat with how steady it was.

(Also, Stiles always says that guy’s name like that. Every time. It’s always, “John Peters, you know, the farmer?” Derek had never even met anyone by that name, but he bet that the moment he did, he’d be able to hear Stiles saying, “You know, the farmer?” in his head and then he’d be stuck wondering what the hell it was the guy actually grew, given that Derek wasn’t ready to throw in the towel and accept imaginary corn as a real crop just yet.)

More worryingly, Stiles will come out and say things like, “Angels aren’t real, and they only tell lies, but one day I was talking to one of Old Woman Josie’s friends, who look like angels, and sound like angels, and act like angels and are all named Erika, but most certainly _are not_ angels, because there are no such thing as angels- anyway, I was talking to an Erika and they said-”

Or he’ll say something really casually off-hand, like, “Oh, I’ve only had to go to municipal re-education in the abandoned mine shaft just outside of town, like, three times, tops! It’s hard to tell exactly how many times you’ve been there, because sometimes they wipe your memory to protect classified information, but it’s probably only been like, three times. Nothing serious, like my old classmate whose name was stricken from the records for chronic civil disobedience. I think they transferred him to-” Stiles shudders, and his next words are a curse. “ _ **Desert Bluffs**_.” And Stiles never seems to realize how much was wrong in what he just said. Never.

Derek’s not the only one to note Stiles’ weirdness. The pack contacts Derek to whine about Stiles’ weirdness _all the time_. Apparently, he mopes at school about not getting to study Ancient Sumerian anymore, and how Spanish and French were just so _impractical_ as foreign languages to study go. At lunch, he watches every sandwich like he thinks it’s going to jump up and bite him. He keeps asking about chemicals that don’t even exist in chemistry. After school, he’s even asked a couple of times where the pack’s blood-stone circle is!

Sometimes Stiles is really concerning.  


Derek has absolutely no desire to ever discover what exactly a blood-stone circle is, or its function. He wishes he could just discard the idea as a joke of Stiles’, but as far as Derek can tell, he’s completely serious about that. Honestly, at this point, Derek’s just hoping it has nothing to do with human sacrifice. He’s pretty sure it doesn’t, but he also not completely certain. He never really wants to know.

Stiles’ background is sometimes scary concerning, and then sometimes, Stiles will be bewildered that there isn’t a restaurant that every citizen in town is required by law to visit once a week or that ‘Michigan’ is a real place and suddenly, he’s just oddball Stiles again, nothing really concerning.

It wasn’t just the things Stiles said that were weird. It was also his reactions to completely innocuous things. For instance, one time the pack was having a meeting about a new supernatural threat not long after Stiles joined them. Derek mentioned having to stop by the library to pick up some research material, and Stiles’ heartbeat went wild, and he got a dead look around the eyes.

“Th-the Library?” He managed to get out, after he registered everyone staring at him. “Why would you- that’s _dangerous_. How- I just- don’t you people have _Librarians_?”

“Yeah, but you need to go to the library to ask them for help researching, Stiles.” Erica drawled mockingly. Derek didn’t like her tone of voice, but he knew better than to fight that losing battle against a teenager. No one won that kind of fight, or walked away with any dignity intact.

Stiles looked haunted, and unnaturally pale, his beauty marks stark against the backdrop of his skin. In a faint voice, he asked, “ _Ask a Librarian for help_?!”

Scott eyed him oddly. “Yeah, that’s what they’re there for?”

Stiles eyed Scott right back. “No? They’re there so no one touches the books and to weed the population from people foolish enough to enter the Library? Everyone knows this?” He glanced around the room and saw no one agreed with him. “I survived the Summer Reading Program, guys- I know Librarians.”

Stiles is a study in contradictions. He refers fondly to having been part of a child-militia led by a child, but he hates it when the monster of the week needs killing to protect the town. He overreacts to innocent things, like librarians, and completely fails to react to genuine threats. He wasn’t scared of the Alpha Pack, not for one second, but just mentioning librarians practically sends him into shock and makes him jittery and paranoid for hours.

What was worse, was that no matter what outlandish claims Stiles made about Night Vale, his father never contradicted any of them. They hadn’t known it at the time, but right after Stiles had gone home from their first mutual encounter, he’d immediately filled his dad in on everything he knew about the supernatural goings-on of Beacon Hills. At first, Derek had been furious, but he’d come around to seeing the benefits of not only have a member of the local police force on their side but also the benefits of having a man as experienced and unflappable as the Sheriff to offer advice.

The man wasn’t fazed by anything. Part of that was undoubtedly due to Stiles being Stiles- even when he wasn’t being particularly ‘Night Vale’ levels of strange, he must have been a handful to raise. Nor was he bothered by discovering the supernatural living under his nose, or even hosting rowdy pack meetings in his living room. He just continued on with whatever he was doing calmly, and if asked by any member of the pack if Stiles was telling the truth or not he’d just say it wasn’t any of the pack’s business.

So overall, they’d grown pretty used to Stiles’ strangeness over time and now hardly noticed it. Or, at least, hardly visibly noticed it. Until the day he got the letter.


	2. In which the characters have still not left Beacon Hills

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is absolutely dedicated to my lovely commenters, which encouraged me to write basically this entire chapter. Thanks!

It had been a fairly innocuous day thus far; blue skies, hardly any clouds, a nice light breeze, no school, responsibilities, or threats.

Derek should have known it wouldn't last. His first inkling that something wasn’t completely alright was when Stiles texted him to arrange a meeting instead of just outright telling him the news. Nothing good every happened when Stile obfuscated. The second hint was the way Stiles looked when they did meet- he was smiling, but his eyes were shifty, and he smelled a bit sour, like he was nervous about something.

When he finally spit it out after Derek prompted him a bit- which was surprising enough, given that usually, the trick was to make Stiles shut up- it wasn’t anything Derek could have ever expected.

See, according to Stiles, he’s just received a letter. This is most remarkable, and not just because who uses snail mail in this day and age? No. This letter is special. See, it’s not from anyone in this weird little town Stiles has found himself living in.

No, this letter is from home, so Stiles says.

This letter, addressed to one ‘Stiles Stilinski, militia Lieutenant’, is from his Gran. (She always addresses him by his rank in their letters- she’s very proud.) She misses him, and as she’s getting on in years, would greatly appreciate her grandson coming back home for a visit once in a while.

Gran also states very explicitly that while she’s loved hearing about his new friends, she really, really wants to meet Derek especially and he should definitely come along. Wink wink, nudge nudge. She actually wrote that out, even.

-

Stiles may or may not be harboring a huge crush on Derek that he doesn’t dare try to whine about to any of the pack, given that A) they’ve all known Derek longer and thus are more likely to be loyal to him and might blab, and B) without having an advanced-stalker-level type surveillance on Derek at any given moment there is the possibility that he could overhear everything with his super werewolfy hearing.

Which, just. No. Nope. Stiles is not here for the inadvertent admission of crush like feelings and/or desires of a sexual nature. He is not about that life.

He also doesn’t really have any online friends to talk about it with, because he’s still getting the hang of the concept of internet activity that is not monitored by the Sheriff’s Secret Police. His activity especially was flagged by the department and reports were given to his dad, who was, you know, the _Sheriff_.

He’d gotten really good at hacking to dodge that, and while he didn’t really need to be as cautious in Beacon Hills, he also had deep-seated habits of not being entirely 100% honest online to get over. Because who wants their dad to read all of their emails? No one, that’s who.

So, highly edited and rated PG whining to Gran was the only relief he had. It was cool. They were tight. Until it was not cool, because she was demanding he come back for a visit and bring his crush with him!

-

Derek agreed to go with him on a short trip back to Night Vale. Stiles had no idea how exactly he’d managed that miracle, so he wasn’t going to question it too hard. He had some torn feelings about it, actually. On the one hand, spending more time with the object of his affections without having to fight for their lives! On the other, spending a lot of time in close quarters with his crush who could probably smell that sort of thing. Bound to be embarrassing at some point.

Stiles would be happy, but- well. Gran meeting Derek. Derek meeting Gran. She was going to eat him alive. (Not literally, Gran had no more homicidal or cannibalistic urges than any average long-lived Night Vale resident, but, well. The risk was always there, metaphorical or not.)

Truth be told, Stiles was just getting used to how life was, Outside of Night Vale. It was weird, and dangerous at times- but actually, really, super safe for everyone, for the most part, excepting werewolf shenanigans. Which in Stiles’ experience, were actually rather tame.

Especially given recent events with the whole Mayoral election and assassination attempts in Night Vale. Stiles only knew about them because his Gran recorded the WTNV show for him and sent him copies, which he appreciated. One of the things he missed the most about Night Vale was the radio show. Things just weren’t the same without the Voice of the town narrating most of the interesting events live on air for everyone to hear.

-

Truth be told, Stiles wasn’t 100% certain Derek could survive Night Vale, even though he’d been willing to come along. But then, nothing in life was certain, and he was pretty sure they’d be safe.

-

Okay, so Stiles does know how he got Derek to come along with him.

Bribes were involved. Bribes concerning Stiles’ future behavior for a set amount of time, baked goods, and some questionably legal ways parking tickets could disappear. All of that was just barely good enough to make sure Derek didn’t storm away.

Stiles also relied heavily on the fact that he’d actually physically and at great danger to himself, saved Derek’s life a few times.

Then Stiles reminded him pointedly that he couldn't actually physically go visit his Gran by himself right now, since Derek accidentally messed up Stiles’ jeep for the foreseeable future. Roscoe was in the shop and would eventually run again, but right now, Stiles is car-less and you couldn't get the Sheriff to return to Night Vale for anything less than the threat of death so that avenue of travel was out. Even though Gran was the Sheriff’s mom, it was also where Stiles’ mom had died. Stiles understood why his dad never wanted to go near the place again.

Finally, he just resorted to begging. He wasn’t going to rehash it all, but it did involve pleading with Derek not to leave him to face his Gran alone, because as much as he loved her, that was a bit much to ask, as well as saying that surely Derek wants to be able to get out of this town for a break every so often and what better opportunity than this?

That particular entreaty did rely a bit on the fact that before Stiles had arrived in town, it had been discovered that Derek couldn't take vacations. As soon as he left town for a relaxing trip anywhere, some big bad descended on town and everything went to shit. However, if Derek left for business, however loosely defined, everything in Beacon Hills generally stayed in a holding pattern until he returned.

Business could mean anything from ‘going back to New York to pick up his belongings’, ‘accompanying Scott on a college trip’, or ‘taking Erica to a secretly werewolf specialist in LA for a check up’. Stiles was banking on ‘accompanying Stiles on a family visit’ counting as close enough for the curse- yeah, it wasn’t 100% confirmed but Stiles definitely suspected a curse- to count, and for Derek to be desperate enough to get out of town for a bit that he’d accept.

Thankfully, some combination of pleas, bribes, and blackmail must have worked, because Derek agreed.

Now all Stiles had to do was get them to Night Vale.


	3. In which there is a road and a trip but no rivers or woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Otherwise known as the chapter of 'what tense even is this' and 'wait that POV is a bit screwy'.  
> Also, fun facts of the chapter:  
> The gift-giving tradition stems from my childhood road-tripping experiences, though it was my mother who came up with it.  
> Stealing produce from plants too close to the road comes from my roommate's stories of road-tripping with her mother.  
> Now, on with the show.

It was going to be a pleasantly warm summer day, not too hot, not too cold. Even before they got everything into the car and set off, Stiles could feel the morning sun warming his skin.

He rethought a packing decision, and rushed to pull his sun-tan lotion out of his trunk and put it in the center console instead. Growing up in Night Vale, a friendly community in the desert had taught him the benefit of always carrying around sunscreen. Especially when he was so pale. He checked to make sure both he and Derek had refillable water bottles, and that they were in fact full and waiting for them in the cup-holders before they even started the car.

Road-tripping with Derek is unexpectedly pleasant. Stiles was kind of thinking that the whole seventeen hour trip would be an exercise in biting his tongue and awkward silences. But oddly enough, it… wasn’t bad.

Derek volunteered to drive first. He told Stiles if he had any problems with Derek’s choice of music, he could keep his mouth shut. So, while still kind of awkward, at least there was music and not complete, crushing silence. Not bad music, either. None of it would have been Stiles’ first choice- he likes pop and nerdy covers of songs with some punk rock on the side, while Derek tends more towards country and classic rock. A bit of a surprise- but Stiles did like it, well enough to mostly keep his mouth shut for a while.

An hour into the trip, and well out of Beacon Hills, Derek did the most surprising thing yet. He pulled the car over at a rest stop, and pulled two large paper gift bags out of the trunk, bringing them up to rest on the driver’s seat. He dug in one for a second, before shoving a small package wrapped in holographic glittering gold paper into Stiles’ hands. He pulled another package wrapped in plain blue paper out of the other bag for himself. Then he shoved the two mysterious bags- evidently full of gifts- back in the trunk and hopped back into the driver’s seat.

He began unwrapping his package immediately, but paused when he saw that Stiles hadn’t made a move to open his.

“What?” he asked with a little shake of his head, like pausing the road trip he’d been coerced on to open small gifts he’d apparently went out of his way to find and wrap himself was a completely normal and expected occurrence.

Stiles just kind of gestured vaguely, waving the still unopened package around, and gave Derek a puzzled look. It was a little hard to ignore how the paper shone in the light- it was mesmerizing! But, priorities.

Derek sighed heavily, turning his half-opened gift over in his hands. “It’s a- a thing, something my family used to do on road trips. There were a lot of us, and if we got too bored or active in the car, that was a danger to the driver. So Dad came up with the idea for gifts. Small gifts, nothing expensive or requiring electricity. Every hour, if we were good, we’d get to open a gift- just one, until we got there. We’d do the same thing on the way home.” Then he clamped his mouth shut, his eyes locked on the gift sitting in his lap- though did it count as a gift, if you bought it for yourself?- his ears slowly reddening.

When Stiles still didn’t move, he scowled and made as if he’d grab Stiles’ gift back. “Fine, if you don’t want it-”

But Stiles clutched the gift to his chest, his heart rabbiting and his cheeks heating up, not noticing the small smiling curling around the edges of Derek’s lips.

Derek had thought ahead for this trip. Maybe even looked forward to it. And he came up with a way to keep Stiles from being bored, which while awkward and apparently full of memory-laden pitfalls, was still really sweet.

Stiles glanced over at Derek at the sound of tearing paper. It turned out Derek gave himself a bag of organic jerky to munch on. It was huge too, and Stiles had an idea of how much that had to cost, given how much regular, super-unhealthy jerky cost for a small bag. So much for ‘unexpensive’ gifts, but then Derek had gotten it for himself, so fair enough. It was his money.

He hoped his gift was better than that. Stiles took his time unwrapping his present, so he could save the shiny paper and let the anticipation build. Stiles didn’t even know what the gift was, but Derek could pry it from his cold dead hands before he let it go.

-

It turned out the first gift was a mad-libs book. Stiles loved it. Both his dad and Scott refused to do mad-libs with him anymore and threatened him if he even so much as hinted about it in their general vicinity. Stiles grinned, and rolled his window almost completely shut so Derek could hear him better, not that he needed to, werewolf hearing and all.

This was going to be _epic_.

On second thought, Derek might _actually_ pry it from his dead, cold hands.

-

The second hour, and the second gift, was an audio-book. This was more of a gift to Derek than to Stiles, because it meant that Stiles stopped bothering Derek to come up with new adjectives and less boring nouns and instead focused on listening to the story.

Derek may or may not have dug out that specific gift instead of what he’d planned to give Stiles second on purpose, just to end the torture.

-

The third hour passed peacefully, listening to the book, and Derek almost forgot to stop for the third gift.

Almost.

Stiles started bouncing in his seat and eyeing the dashboard clock impatiently a quarter til. Stiles was too curious about what else Derek might have gotten for him to let him forget. He was less excited when he realized he’d gotten a book of crossword puzzles. While fun enough, he was hoping for another game to bug Derek with.

Derek was just happy it kept Stiles occupied for a while.

-

Derek woke up from a nap to find the car stopped somewhere on the side of the road that was clearly not a rest-stop.

No, Stiles- Stiles-the-Sheriff’s-son-Stiles- decided to stop the car next to what was clearly an orchard, and was blatantly _stealing apples_.

Sometimes, Derek didn’t know what to make of his life.

-

It’s a day later and many miles away from Beacon Hills on a sandy stretch of highway to nowhere that Stiles drops the bomb. “Oh shit. I gotta call Cecil.”

Derek, who is driving again, barely blinks. “Who is Cecil.”

Stiles squirms in his seat. “Um, that’s not really all that important- look, I just gotta call him before we hit city limits-”

“Who. Is. Cecil.” One of these days, Stiles was going to not react to that tone of voice. One day.

Stiles dithers for a moment more before squeaking out, “He’s the WTNV radio host?”

Derek frowned thoughtfully. “Are you related?”

Stiles shrugged. “Um. No? I don’t think we are… Like, there’s a chance considering it’s a small town, but probably not?”

“Is he important?” The harsh sunlight cast comically dark shadows under Derek’s furrowed brows.

Stiles seesaws his hand. “Kinda-sorta?”

“Do you need to tell him you’re coming for a legal reason?”

“No- what? Look, Derek, just pull over for a sec so I can call him and let him know we’re coming. I don’t wanna call when the car’s moving, it makes it hard to hear on the other end and reception is dicey around the outskirts of town.”

Derek didn’t let up. “Why does he need to know?”

Stiles pulls a face at Derek, holding it long enough for Derek to glance over and see. “Look, Derek- he already knows we’re coming into town. He always knows. It just is, if I give him a courtesy call, we’ll be reported as ‘returning member of Tamika Flynn’s child militia and his strange out of town guest coming to visit ailing family’, and really that’s for the best.”

“Reported on?” Derek asked.

“I said he’s the radio host, didn’t I?”

Derek had no idea what to make of that. What relevance did that even have. “What does that have to do with anything?!” he demanded, carefully clenching his fists around the steering wheel. He really didn’t need to lose his temper and accidentally tear it off.

Once was enough for that, and that was back when he was learning how to drive. Laura had never let it go.

Derek was confident at this point that he knew Stiles well enough to know that he’d never ever let it go either.

Best not to risk it. He gathered himself, focusing on his breathing for a little while before trying to get an answer again. “Stiles?”

“Um, well- look. I know you said I can’t touch the radio when it’s not my turn, but I think we’re close enough to pick up the station, and I think that might clear up everything.” Stiles said, already fiddling with the dials.


	4. In which the characters finally reach Night Vale!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cecil's voicemail taken from WTNV episode 65: _Voicemail._  
>  This installment happens during episode 66: _worms..._  
>  I think the next chapter will 1) involve Night Vale characters POV; and 2) be the last chapter. We'll see how it goes. Thanks again for all the lovely comments, they brighten my day and help motivate me to write more and faster!

Finally, Derek relents, and pulls over to let Stiles call the radio host. He isn’t sure why he goes along with it, or why Stiles feels like he needs to let this guy know they’re coming. Or why Stiles has his number.

He also doesn’t want to argue about this for the next three days, so he gives in.

Stiles has already pulled out his phone by the time he’s parked, and he’s dialing a number from memory, his fingers a blur over the screen. Stiles waits as patiently as he ever can wait for anything, fingers tapping against his knee while the phone rings and rings.

-

_“You have reached the voice mail of Cecil Gershwin Palmer, that might seem like an easy thing to do, but think about how long you had to stay alive just to learn how a phone works and who I am. Congratulate yourself on that. Give yourself a vigorous pat on the back annnd don’t forget to leave a message after the heavily distorted sample of a man saying, ‘I just couldn’t eat another bite!’”_

-

They’ve just passed a _‘Welcome to Night Vale!’_ sign, and there are giant worms _everywhere_. Stiles doesn’t seem to be concerned at all, besides some glancing at the sky.

Derek decides to pretend that they aren’t there unless one gets too close.

Some things are just too weird for even the werewolf who’s dealt with a kanima, an undead uncle, and _pixies_. There is a line of things even he is unwilling to deal with unless it directly involves him, as thin as that line is at times.

Giant worms definitely cross that line.

-

They are just passing city limits when the man on the radio begins talking about baseball, and how there are four teams everyone gets put on depending on their personality. It sounds a lot like a convoluted _Harry Potter_ reference to Derek, but again, he refrains from comment. Surely that’s too obvious? They can’t have everyone in on it, right?

They drive along peaceably enough, even though Derek does spot a sign for a bowling alley that claims it is now ‘free of threat of invasion’. Derek pretends that he didn’t read that. Whatever that sign means, if it’s literal or just a really weird metaphor only Night Vale citizens understand- he isn’t going to ask.

Stiles frowns when Cecil started talking about making a break for the… dog park? It’s quite a production, involving grimacing further than the limits of his face should have strictly allowed, and even the baring of teeth.

“That’s a bad idea.” was all he said about that. What a strange and concerning thing to hear from Stiles of all people.

Against his better judgement, Derek asks, “Why?”

Stiles meets his eyes briefly, before turning back to the road and saying in a hollow monotone voice, “The Dog Park is Forbidden.” Life bleeds back into his voice abruptly. “Turn right at the intersection.”

Derek obediently turned right, swerving to avoid a worm the size of a flat-screen TV writhing in the road.

He and Stiles don’t talk, instead just listen to the radio. Derek learns a lot of things about Night Vale from the radio.

He learns that the Sheriff here has a secret police that everyone knows about, and there’s a fugitive five-headed dragon and faceless old woman who secretly lives in your home. Derek had his suspicions before, but now he knows for certain.

Everyone in Night Vale is _insane_.

It explains a lot about Stiles.

...The Sheriff too, for that matter.

Once Derek realizes and accepts that basic fact, he’s able to roll with the surprises much better.

Strange music plays, and Stiles beams. “I’m glad the weather is going to be so good while we’re here! I was afraid we’d have alligator swarms or something, and I wouldn't be able to show you the sights.”

Derek asks, “Are we almost there yet?”

-

Stiles’ grandmother _loves_ Derek. He keeps getting the first cookie from every batch- and there have been a lot of batches. Apparently her best friend is old woman Josie, and the two of them have been cooking up a storm for one of the Erikas’ birthday party.

The Erikas are _not_ angels, since there are no such things as angels, or so Derek’s been quite firmly told. Repeatedly. Every single time their shared name comes up. Derek tries not to look at any of the Erikas. He can’t remember what they looked like when he did the first time, but he knows that it unsettles him, and so he adverts his eyes. He finds himself doing that a lot in Night Vale.

He can’t be sure, but he thinks Stiles’ grandmother- _call me Delores, darling-_ might have even given him a larger slice of invisible pie than Stiles’, which seems a little unfair since he’s not actually related to her, but whatever. Derek’s not going to complain about unfair treatment that works out in his favor, though going by Stiles’ pout, he might.

-

It’s difficult getting to sleep in Stiles’ grandmother’s house. He always has trouble sleeping in a new place. Stiles’ grandmother’s house- Delores’ house is near the Arby’s. A mysterious light shines above it, and through her guest room blinds. The light is accompanied by an odd humming that keeps changing its pitch and variation and is impossible to get used to. Eventually Derek manages to attune his focus to Stiles’ breathing and heartbeat, and drifts off into sleep.

He has a big day ahead of him.


	5. In which the story is completed

Delores just didn’t know what to make of the young man her grandson kept telling her was ‘just a friend!’

Oh, he was handsome enough, and polite too! He had a smile that could drop all the knickers in a twenty foot radius to boot. (It was especially effective on her Stiles, she noted.)

But something about him just wasn’t quite right. He just didn’t seem to know a lot of things everyone should know. What kind of family didn’t have a weekly bloodstone ritual?

Strange, very strange.

-

Tamika's glad she got to see her old lieutenant again. The book drive had been cut short since none of the books could move or were sentient, so she had plenty of time to spare for a short visit.

She had a ball reliving the glory days of the Summer Reading Program with Stiles, though she noticed some of their stories seemed a bit hard to swallow for his companion, or made him a mite queasy looking around his non-existent gills. That is, when he wasn’t trying poorly to hide his disbelief.

That’s alright. You had to have been there to really grasp the visceral gritty reality of the otherworldly horror of the Librarians, and the Summer Reading Program. They’d been through some Things during that long time away.

Not everyone could understand them now.

Still, it was good to see that Stiles was keeping up with his training, and that he wasn’t letting his knife skills go dull.

Derek is literate at least, and that’s always a plus. She likes to see that kind of subversive attitude in a person.

-

The Erikas approve of young Stiles’ friend. He has had so much happen to him over the course of his short life, much of it bad, and yet he continues to try and do good. He often fails, but still he tries.

It speaks well of his character.

-

So, the thing you need to understand about Stiles and Night Vale is this: Stiles loves Night Vale. As far as he’s concerned, it’s his home. Beacon Hills isn’t as bad as he thought it was going to be, and it’s a lot better now that he knows about all the werewolves and all the things that go bump in the night. (and day, and during school and after school, and on the weekends…)

But Night Vale is where he grew up. It’s where his mother lived. (and died, but he doesn’t like to think about that.) It’s where his grandmother lives, and where the letters from his gran show up, before being forwarded to his new address. Night Vale is where he understands what’s going on the majority of the time, and doesn’t need anything explained to him.

People know him there, and while he’s strange, he’s ordinary garden variety strange. Nobody looks at him funny for the things he says, because they too know about the odd Things that happen in Night Vale. Nobody slams him into things for arguing, or being a little too loose with his tongue. No one tries to murder him or any of his friends for their species. (At least, not usually.)

He’s respected here, and he fought hard to earn that respect, to earn his place in Tamika Flynn’s child militia, and to survive the Summer Reading Program and the Librarians.  
Night Vale is full of beautiful things, like the Whispering Pines, the Sand Wastes, and the lights in Raydon Canyon.

As much as he loves it though, and as awesome as it would be to move back home and never leave, Stiles loves his father more. And so he agreed to move away from all he knew with minimum fuss, and tried really hard to fit in and make new friends at his new school. He has plans to move back as soon as he can manage it, and as long as he can stand living that far away from his father.

But, well… The longer he’s here, back home, with Derek of all people, the more he misses… Beacon Hills.

It seems he’s doomed to always be missing another place. It sucks. And while Stiles does feel welcome and familiar in Night Vale, something about being here, instead of back in Beacon Hills, gearing up to face the next Big Bad, doesn’t. It itches at him like an ill-fitting shirt.

It might be time for the two of them to make their way back home again.

-

Looking back, Derek was never really sure of how long they were actually in Night Vale. While they were there, it felt like only a few days, and an eternity at the same time. Derek would have sworn they were gone for only three days. Three exceedingly long days, but that was it.

When they returned to Beacon Hills, the whole pack was frantic- they’d been gone for three weeks. Stiles’ father was the only one not upset at the unexpected length of their trip; in fact, he seemed to have expected it.

Derek chalked it up to some of the strangeness of Stiles’ and his home town, Night Vale, and did his best to forget. (He never quite managed it.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the end! I'm sorry for two reasons: 1) that it took so long- I have had a lot of computer/internet connectivity issues this month, which continue to be super frustrating, and prevented me from being able to even work on this for a while and are too numerous to list; and 2) that it might be disappointing for some. I really tried, but my inspiration for this story was just gone, and I really feel that doing a multi-chapter was too ambitious for this series, and it might have worked out better if I stuck to small, episodic one-shots.  
> Thank you for all the support, and kind comments along the way! If it hadn't been for those, I definitely would never have finished this, so I appreciate each and every one of them.

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit me at my tumblr, [serpensortia-parapluie](https://serpensortia-parapluie.tumblr.com)!  
> Also, remember how in the first installment I said that Stiles' dad was the Sheriff with the Secret Police in Night Vale? The man has Seen Things. No adolescent lycan's supernatural turf war has anything on Night Vale.


End file.
